Harry Potter and the Perilous Peeping Plot
by ScrotumSempra
Summary: During his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry decides it's about time he got to see some tits. But without Hermione's help, the hapless young wizard's attempts at voyerism prove more challenging than expected...
1. Chapter 1: Wake Up

"Ron, wake up," said Harry. "We're gonna go see some titties."

Ron drowsily opened his eyes. "Harry, it's like 3 in the morning."

"I know, but I haven't been able to sleep all night. So I got to thinking: what if we sneak into the girls dorm and see if we can see any of them nekkid?" Harry was grinning like a child.

Ron scratched his scalp. "Harry, I don't think that's such a good idea."

Harry let out an irritable grunt. "Oh come on, Ron. I went to all the trouble of thinking up a plan! They're probably up there right now having a nekkid pillow fight or something."

"At 3AM?" Ron was puzzled. It seemed to him that there was something inherently wrong about trying to sneak a peek at the naked bodies of girls without their consent. "Harry, those are our friends up there."

"Exactly!" Harry's eyes lit up. "Which means Hermione will be there too!"

Ron's expression became distant. He didn't think he'd ever find out what Hermione looked like nekkid. She had nice skin...

"But Harry," he said, "remember when you tried storming up to the Girls Dorm a few years ago and it became a slide that you just fell down? They must have built-in counter measures to stop boys from doing this sort of thing."

"And do they have counter measures to stop the girls from doing it to us boys?" Harry scoffed. "It's sexist, I tell you! A complete double standard. Why, I once caught Romilda Vane trying to peer into our dorm window while riding a broomstick."

"That's not *so* bad," said Ron.

"She was nekkid," said Harry.

"Oh." Ron was puzzled. "Is that your plan then? To ride your Firebolt up to their window?"

"I already tried that," said Harry. "It's one of those blasted windows where they can see out but you can't see in."

"But surely you don't mean to climb the slide?"

"I don't need to climb it," said Harry. "Like you just said-I have a Firebolt!"


	2. Chapter 2: Goddamnit Harry!

The two of them left the Boys Dorm, Harry with his broom in hand. "Are you really, really sure about this?" Ron asked, as Harry came to the bottom of the stairs of the Girls Dorm.

"Totally sure," said Harry.

"Well I'm sure too," said a third voice. "I'm sure that it's a bad idea."

Neville stepped out from the shadows. He could be really sneaky when he wanted to be.

"Oh, fucking hell," swore Harry. "Look, Neville. I'm just trying to get a peek of some titties."

"No," said Neville. "I won't let you. I'll-I'll tell Professor McGonagall!"

"Neville, you little shit." Harry scowled. "This is why nobody likes you."

"I don't even know how many points from Gryffindor will be lost after this," Ron said thoughtfully. "She'll probably empty out every point we've ever earned for the entire year. We'll *never* win the house cup after that."

"I don't care about the stupid house cup," said Harry, getting onto his broom. "I've got titties to see. Ron, are you coming or not?"

Ron shook his head. He didn't want any part of this.

"Suit yourself then." Harry's feet left the ground as the broomstick began to levitate.

"Goddammit Harry!" cried Neville. "You're ruining things for everyone!"

Harry shrugged, his face twisting into a rather sad expression. "What else is new?"

And so he sped up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3: The Door to Happiness

Harry flew his broomstick up the stairs to the Girls Dorm. The stairs almost immediately became a slide, effectively turning the upwards passageway into a tunnel, but still Harry rode through it on his broomstick, drooling in excitement.

He came at last to a door with a face on it. Currently it was snoozing. Another security measure? Harry swore under his breath. Would he have to guess a riddle? Answer questions about "Degrassi" or whatever it was that girls watched on the telly?

Harry approached the door. The knob was the face's nose. There was no keyhole to look through, so he would just have to go in if he wanted to see what those girls were up to. He reached for the knob, hoping the door would remain closed. As he turned it, the door seemed to sneeze, and it's eyes fluttered half-open.

"What is it?" the door murmured. "Have they put makeup on me again?"

The door's eyes opened fully, then. It saw Harry standing there, a perverse glint in his eye.

"WELL!" said the door. "What have we here? A peeping tom?"

"Um..." Harry pointed his wand st the door. "Obliviate?"

"I'm a door," said the door. "That spell won't work on me."

"Alohamora?"

The door remained closed.

"Diffendo?"

"So now you want to blast me open?" the door growled. It seemed to swell in size, a furious expression on its face. "Get away from here, boy, or your face will be full of SPLINTERS! Then all will know what you have attempted tonight. They will be splinters...of SHAME!"

Harry hurriedly rode his broom back down the slide. He would have to try again tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4: The Toughest Challenge Yet

The next day at breakfast Harry was on edge. Had the door told the girls about him? Fortunately, when he saw Hermione all she said was, "Good morning, how are you?" and then, before he or Ron could respond, she immediately launched into a monologue about an essay she had been working on for History of Magic only to realize that the assigned question the essay was meant to answer was actually based on an incorrect assumption. Harry was never so relieved to hear one of these rants.

When he and Ron were next alone in their dorm, Ron finally asked the question that had clearly been on his mind all morning: "So? What did you see?"

In spite of his stance against it, Ron really was quite curious. If Harry had seen Hermione's skin, then he would be unspeakably jealous, but he still would want to know details.

"Nothing," Harry admitted, and Ron was surprised by how disappointed he felt at hearing this. "But I'm not giving up. I'm going to give it another go tonight."

"But Harry, what if McGonagall does find out?"

Harry grinned. "It won't matter. I'm tight with Dumbledore this year-he needs me to help stop Voldemort. I'm the boy who lived, remember? I've already saved the world like 5 times now."

Ron scratched his chin. "Well technically, Harry, the last few years you haven't done so well. You let Peter Pettigrew escape, you failed to stop you-know-who from being resurrected and he killed Cedric, and then last year you went right where you-know-who wanted you to go and ended up getting Sirius killed-"

"Ron, shut up! You're killing my boner. Look, it's going to be fine. Just bear with me later tonight. I have an idea."

Harry's "idea" became clear when, that night, he came up to Ron with a box of makeup. "Okay, Ron," he said. "It's makeover time."

Ron stared at the box in horror. "Harry, I don't want a makeover!"

"Not for you," said Harry. "For me. I want you to make me look like a woman. Then we can trick the door."

"Harry, I don't think this will work."

"Of course it will. I'll tell it I'm a transfer student."

"Why don't you just make another polyjuice potion?"

"I wouldn't know how to do it without Hermione," Harry sighed. "And it isn't as though we can tell her about this. You do realize, I hope, that Hermione's pretty much the main reason we've survived this long. This time, we can't rely on her to help us."

Ron widened his eyes. "But that means..."

"Yes, Ron. This will be the toughest challenge we've ever faced." Harry's expression was grave. "So will you help me? Will you give me this makeover so I can see some bosoms?"

It was as though Ron was somehow cursed to blindly follow along with whatever strange plan Harry came up with, no matter how pointless it at first seemed. Ron convinced himself that this curse was called Friendship. After all, it wasn't as though Harry was using the Imperius Curse or something on him, right? Unless...unless he'd used Obliviate right after, so Ron wouldn't remember being cursed. But no, that was nonsense.

"All right, Harry," he said. "I'll do what I can."


	5. Chapter 5: IT'S MAKEOVER TIME!

Ron spent several hours doing Harry's makeup. He did the best he could, and in the end he was quite proud of himself for his work. He'd never done makeup before, and it hadn't turned out too bad, all things considered.

"All right, Harry," he said, beaming with pride. "I'm done."

Harry looked in the mirror and screamed. Ron had made a complete mess of his face. Bright purples and reds clashed horribly. He looked like a demented clown whose face had been hit with a sledgehammer.

"What did you do to me?" Harry exclaimed.

To Ron, it was as though Harry had stabbed him in the chest. His face sunk until it resembled a sad old basset hound. "I thought you'd like it. I think you look really girly."

"I look Ron, Wrong!" said Harry. "Er, I mean, I look wrong, Ron! It will never fool anyone."

Ron looked at Harry's sad reflection, and winced sadly. He couldn't deny it anymore. He'd made Harry look awful. "Maybe we can get someone else to help clean you up?"

"But who?" Harry sighed. "It can't be any of the Gryffindor girls, and I don't want to talk to the Slytherins."

"I know!" said Ron. "Let's ask Luna Lovegood."

They tracked down Luna that afternoon. She was reading a book by the lake. The pages appeared to be blank.

"Er...whatcha reading Luna?" Harry asked as they approached.

"I'm reading about the adventures of Sir Cadogan before he was so rudely imprisoned in that painting," said Luna, her voice airy as usual. "He actually did rather impressive deeds."

Ron stared over her shoulder, wincing. "The pages look blank to me."

"That's only because you don't know how to read the writing of Nargles," said Luna. "They're the only ones that know the truth about him, you see. He was a great help to their people."

"Uhhh...right," said Ron. "Um, Harry and I were wondering..."

Luna finally turned around and saw Harry's face. She cocked her head. "You look like you need some help. Are you trying to dress in drag?"

"Yes," said Harry.

She swished her wand. The makeup rearranged itself on Harry's face, and his hair grew long and bountiful. Harry looked at his reflection in the lake and was astounded. Even as the water rippled, he could see that he had been transformed into a beautiful girl-ish looking thing.

"How did you do that?" he exclaimed.

"Most witches don't bother with putting on real makeup anymore," said Luna. "That takes hours. Spells take seconds. It's quite logical, really."

Harry had the vague sensation that Luna was God. "Luna, thank you for this. I promise to repay you by not trying to sneak a peak at your boobs."

Luna cocked her head again, obviously confused. "If that's what you were after you have could just asked me."

Ron and Harry both gaped at her. "You-you'd show them to us?" Ron stammered.

Luna shrugged. "I don't care. They're just boobs. Everyone has them."

Then she strolled off with her book, humming something. Harry was stunned. He reached out at her increasingly distant figure. "Wait!" he cried. "Please!"

But Luna was already over the hill. Harry fell to his knees, defeated.

"We could always ask her later," said Ron with a shrug. "Anyway, you're a girl now."

Harry looked down at himself. He felt his moobs, which had grown. "You're right, Ron," he said. "I am!"


	6. Chapter 6: Moobs

Harry spent the rest of the day hiding under the covers, feigning sickness, when in reality he just spent the whole time playing with his new moobs. His face was still his own and he was still "male," down below, but Luna had gifted him moobs and he damn well was going to make use of them. He decided that even after he was fully himself again, he'd try to keep these things.

After all the other boys appeared to have gone to bed, Harry once again left the Boys Dorm. But once again, as soon as he was out the door, he found Neville waiting for him.

"Really, Harry?" Neville said. "Are you doing this _again?_ "

"I'm not believing your empty threats this time, Neville," said Harry. "McGonagall never cornered me. No one found out."

"That's because I knew there was no way you'd succeed," said Neville. He turned red. "And because I don't want Slytherin winning the House Cup. But I still don't approve."

"Transphobic scum," said Harry, scowling.

Neville was taken off guard. "What?"

"You don't know my gender identity," said Harry. "I actually am a girl, you know, no matter what my body may be. So it's only fitting that I relocate to the Girls Dorm."

Neville stared at him, face twisting in disgust. "Harry-I know you're not transgender."

"How do you know?" said Harry, tossing his hair. "You don't know me."

"Harry..." Neville looked as though he was in pain. "What you're doing is very offensive to people who are actually transgender. You want to dress in drag, that's fine, I won't judge you. If you're actually trans, that's great, I support you. But after last night I can't shake the feeling that you're just doing this to see tits, and that disrespects and misrepresents the trans community as a whole. It's really problematic, Harry."

Harry looked down."You'd never understand, Neville. You're not an alpha male like I am."

"Ah-HAH!" said Neville. "See? I KNEW you weren't actually a transwoman!"

"My gender is complicated, all right?" snapped Harry. "Neville, just-you know what? Fuck this. Why am I talking to you?"

He got his broom and sped up the slide to the Girls Dorm.


	7. Chapter 7: Winky Narglepuff

Once again Harry came to the door to the Girls Dorm. This time it was awake. Strangely, it didn't seem to recognize him.

"Who's there?" it asked. "I don't know you."

"I'm a transfer student," said Harry, making his voice high and squeaky. "My name is...er...Winkly Narglepuff."

"Ah, I believe a Narglepuff once stayed in this dorm many years ago," said the door. "Would your mother be called Gertrude?"

"Uh...yes," said Harry, deciding to go along with it.

"A fine woman, if I remember correctly." The door smiled. "Well then, I can't promise there will be space, but you may go on in."

Harry's heart was pounding. It had worked! The door swung open...

It was like walking into heaven. Lavendar Brown and Parvati Patil were jumping on their beds, hitting each other with pillows in what to Harry seemed to be slow motion. Meanwhile, Hermione was on her bed, reading.

Disappointingly, they were all still clothed. Still, Harry was excited. His time had come. Soon, he would be a man!

"Who's that?" Lavendar Brown asked. "A new girl?"

"I didn't hear anything about a new girl," said Parvati. They stopped their pillow fight and approached him. "What's your name then?"

"Oh-er-" Harry tried once again to make his voice squeaky and effeminate. "It's Winky. Winky Narglepuff. I just transferred from Durmstrang. Very dark, unpleasant school. I like Hogwarts much better."

Hermione was squinting at him. Her expression said _"What the fuck?"_

Lavendar Brown smiled, but she still looked confused. "Well then, Winky, welcome to Hogwarts! Do you want to join our pillow fight?"

"I'd love to!" said Harry. "But, do we really do it in all these clothes? I feel that such a strenuous activity warrants-"

"Harry, what are you doing?" interrupted Hermione.

Harry's eyes swished across the faces of the girls. They were all looking at him with suspicion now. "Uh...who's Harry?" he said.

Parvati gasped. "Oh my God, that IS Harry! What's he doing in our dorm?"

"He was just suggesting that we take our clothes off," said Lavendar, eyes moving up and down him. "Weren't you, Harry?"

"I-I'm a transfer student-" Harry stammered. With a shaking hand he reached for his wand. If he just used Obliviate, he could make them all forget this ever happened...

"EXPELLIARMUS!" said Hermione, and Harry's wand fired from his hand and out the door behind him. "Really, Harry? _Really?_ "

Parvati was staring at him in horror. She looked hurt and disgusted all at once. "I had no idea you were such a pervert, Harry. I can't believe I went to the Yule Ball with you!"

Harry fell silent. His stomach seemed to have dropped. He looked sadly at Hermione, hoping she might have a way of magically fixing the situation. "H-hermione?" It came out as a croak. His throat was dry from fear.

"Get out of our room, Harry," Hermione sighed. "You're just making things worse."

Dejected, Harry left the room. He rode the slide down back to his dorm. "Whee," he said.


	8. Chapter 8: Harry Pervert

By breakfast the next morning, Harry was the laughing stock of the entire school. _Everyone_ knew what had happened. He'd made sure to look himself again (keeping the moobs, because they pleased him), but all the same when he went down to the Great Hall he felt as though he'd become someone else in the eyes of the school.

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson yelled from the Slytherin table as he sat down. "You want to see tits, Potter? Well too bad! No tits for you!"

At the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang was red-faced, looking miserably down at her food and avoiding everyone's faces. Everyone knew she'd gone on a date with Harry once. It had been a disaster, and people had always said she'd done it as a rebound after Cedric died. But now the rumors had gotten worse. Now they were saying she must have shown him her boobs and that was why he'd become so hungry for more. "Slut," someone hissed into her ear as they passed her by. "I didn't even do anything!" she snapped, covering her face.

Hermione sat way at the other end of the Gryffindor table, avoiding Harry as much as she could. The other girls joined her. Even Ginny! Harry thought for sure that Ginny would still like him, but no dice. Neville sat beside her, looking down the table at him with a look of cold disapproval. " _And_ he was perpetuating transphobic stereotypes," he whispered, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Ginny looked at Harry in an expression of utter disgust. Then she looked away. So did everyone else. They wanted to ignore him. They wanted him to simply not be there.

"At least I have you, eh, Ron?" said Harry, as Ron approached the table, looking ambivalent about where to sit.

Ron stood there, and instead of sitting with Harry, he just frowned. "I'm sorry Harry, but I don't really want to be associated with a registered sex offender. And that's probably what you'll be after this."

Harry was stunned. "But you helped me. You were part of this! And you're my best friend! You can't desert me now."

Ron shook his head. "Sorry, mate. I don't want to screw things up with Hermione. Plus, I _told_ you it was a bad idea." And then he joined Hermione at the other end of the table. Everyone else scooched away too.

Harry felt alone in his corner of the table. His pudding suddenly didn't taste so sweet.

He heard Filch pass behind his back, chuckling. "'Arry Potter?" Filch whispered as he passed. "'Arry Pervert's more like it."

Soon after this, Professor Snape passed by Harry as well. They met each others' eyes, staring at each other with mutual loathing. "Now they all know I was right about you," said Snape. "I, for one, am glad you have chosen to show your true colors. Thanks to that, we will soon be rid of you." A small smile crossed his lips, and then he walked away.

And then there was Nearly-Headless Nick. He ignored Harry entirely, instead drifting over to the others on the other side of the table. He joked, loud enough for Harry to hear: "...I'm not Nearly-Cockless, that's for sure! But I know someone who might very well be if he keeps up what he's doing." Everyone laughed.

And then there was Peeves, the floating poltergeist. "It's Pervy Potter!" he cackled. "Pot-ter the Per-vert, Pot-ter the per-vert! Everyone join in! Chant until he bleeds!"

Even after Harry got up to leave the table, Peeves followed him, the annoying little levitating fucker pursuing him ceaselessly. "Pot-ter the Per-vert, Pot-ter the per-vert!"

"Peeves, for fuck's sake!" Harry screamed, and threw a goblet at him. It missed, and hit Neville's arm instead. "Ow!" said Neville, and the whole table glared at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, walking away.

But even after he'd left the Great Hall, Peeves continued to follow him. "Pot-ter the Per-vert, Pot-ter the per-vert!" Harry half-expected that Peeves would follow him to class.

He ended up going into a very smelly bathroom. Peeves tried to follow him in, but ended up pinching his nose. "Blugh!" he said. "Don't worry, Potter-Perv, your punishment isn't over. I'll merely wait outside. I can be patient when I wish to be!" He drifted out.

Harry hid in a stall and cried.


	9. Chapter 9: Kerfuffle

Harry had been crying in the stall for no more than five minutes before Moaning Myrtle drifted up through the toilet, and through his body. Harry felt violated.

"You could have just asked me, you know," said Myrtle. She sounded heartbroken, as though it had personally hurt her that he hadn't asked. "I would have loved to show you my ghost tits."

"It's not the same," said Harry. "They're transparent. Translucent. You can't touch them. Plus, no offense, but you're like three times my age."

Myrtle gasped in shock. "The cheek of you! And you used to be such a sweet boy!" She floated away, crying. Ten minutes later she still wouldn't stop-Harry got the feeling she was doing it to guilt trip him at this point-so he decided to finally leave the bathroom. Peeves, it seemed, was finally gone. Maybe the poltergeist wasn't so patient after all.

Harry tried talking to Luna later that day. She was, as before, by the lake, reading a different book which also had blank pages. "You see?" she told him, with a sympathetic smile. "You should have just asked for what you wanted, and moved on if they didn't want to give it to you."

Harry nodded grimly. "I get that, Luna. So...I'm going to learn from it from now on. With that in mind...do you think...that maybe could you show me...?" He trailed off. Her smile was sympathetic, but it did not seem accomodating.

"Sorry, Harry," she said. "I don't think that's a good idea after what you did. I don't want to be known as the girl who showed you what you wanted to see. Try talking to Romilda Vane. She's defending you."

"I don't like Romilda Vane," said Harry.

"I can understand that," said Luna, "but I think she's probably the last girl in school who would have you. Have a good day, Harry."

And once more she left, humming to herself. Yes, Harry decided; Luna was indeed God.

It was then that Harry was approached by Professor McGonagall. It seemed she'd finally gathered all the proof she needed to collect him. She was stiff in demeanor, and the way she was looking at Harry indicated that she was extremely displeased. "The headmaster wishes to see you," she said. "I am to escort you to his office."

"All right," said Harry. Dumbledore would listen. He was sure of it. Dumbledore knew how important he was.

But when he went into Dumbledore's office, he found Dumbledore behind his desk, looking very stern and professional. Before he could speak, Dumbledore raised his hand very slightly, silencing him. Harry thought that surely Dumbledore was about to say something inspiring and encouraging like he always did.

Then Dumbledore said, "Sorry, Harry. You're no longer the boy who lived. You're the boy who fucked up."

Harry stared, a sensation of horror slithering into him. "What does that mean?" he asked. "Are you-are you going to send me back to the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore avoided his eyes. It was like last year all over again. "Go home, Harry," he said. "Wherever that is."

At first, Harry felt rage. Then he felt sadness. Then he felt disappointment in himself for letting Dumbledore down. He walked out, deciding that to argue would embarrass himself even further.


	10. Chapter 10: Tolerant Tom

"Isn't it a bit early for Christmas break?" asked Tom the Innkeeper, when Harry showed up at the Leaky Cauldron with his luggage.

"I'm not here for Christmas break," said Harry. "I'm here to stay. They tossed me out of the school. I'm also legally required to tell you that I am now a registered sex offender on account of trying to use magic to see titties."

"Bless my soul," said Tom, eyes wide. "'Arry Potter, registered sex offender! Guess it is true what they say about child stars. Well, Potter, long as you don't cause trouble here, we'll have a room for you."

"Thanks, Tom," said Harry. "Means a lot."

He knew it wouldn't be long before someone caught up to him and made him go back to the Dursleys. He did not look forward to that day. He could just imagine Uncle Vernon leering at him, snarling, "We always _knew_ you were rotten, boy!"

The situation was shittier than Umbridge's shit-eating grin. But he would have to make do.

That night, Harry sat in a shadowy corner of the Leaky Cauldron, miserably watching all the laughing drunk wizards, and grateful that none of them seemed to notice him.

He wished he was old enough to drink. Tom would give him a room, but he wasn't about to break the law by selling him alcohol. He wondered if there was a way he could get some through the use of magic, but then, wasn't that the same kind of thinking that had put him in this sorry state, friendless and alone? He stared at his knees, feeling ready to cry once more. But then he heard a familiar drawling voice say, "Potter. A word, if you would."

That voice-was it? It couldn't be. But it _was_. Harry looked up and saw, to his great astonishment, that Draco Malfoy had joined him at the table.

"Malfoy?" Harry hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I have my ways to and fro," Draco said, smiling. "You can relax, Potter. I come in peace. Indeed...I come offering a proposition."

Harry studied Draco's face, trying to see if this was some kind of trick. "I'm listening."


	11. Chapter 11: An Unexpected Ally

"I want you to know that I understand what you're going through," said Draco. "I'm hardly a choirboy myself."

"No shit?" said Harry.

"I know, right?" said Draco, missing the sarcasm entirely. "I know this must be shocking to hear, Potter, but I'm not a great fan of following the rules when it doesn't suit me. I admire your determination in attempting to see what every man has a right to witness. It was very...Slytherin of you."

"I admire your courage coming to talk to me despite us being obvious mortal enemies," said Harry. "It was very...Gryffindor of you."

Draco let out a hearty laugh. "Let's put our differences aside on this one. There are things that men must share beween each other for the greater good. We may not be friends, but I think we may share a few common interests. For instance, an appreciation for female anatomy." Then he stared at Harry with a very serious expression. "I can help you, Potter."

Harry was curious, but cautious. He knew Draco wouldn't give this "help" freely. "And what do you want in return?" he asked.

"Just...information." Draco looked left and right, biting his lip. Finally he leaned in close. "Hermione's tits...did you see them?"

"Why?"

"I just want to know..." Draco scrunched up his face, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Of course it's silly, she's a mudblood. It's not like I'm interested in her or anything. But...what were they like?"

Harry decided to bluff. "Big, round, juicey."

"Oh dear God," Draco sighed, fanning himself. "That...is a mental image that I will enjoy for the rest of my days, Potter. Thank you."

Harry felt slightly bad about this. But then, what else was new?

"So what do you have for me then?" he asked. There was a thirst in his voice.

"I know a place," said Draco. "It's in Knockturne Alley. I can show you right now if you like."

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

Draco smirked. "I mean, I think there's probably at least _one_ trap there, if you're into that sort of thing. Never took you for the sort, but who am I to judge?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, what is this place you're planning to take me?"

Draco grinned and stood. "Come and see."


	12. Chapter 12: Knockers Alley

Harry and Draco huddled in an alley in Knockturne Alley. Across from them was the entrance to a joint called "KNOCKERS ALLEY." There was a bouncer outside.

Malfoy gestured for Harry to hide in the alley, just out of the bouncer's view. "Okay," he whispered. "So we're technically underage. But if we look old enough we should be able to fool the bouncer." He pointed his wand at his face and whispered, "Embeardio,"

Harry did the same. He and Malfoy now both had great big bushy beards. Their skin was still wrinkle-free, but with scruff like this, Harry figured it probably didn't matter.

Harry and Draco strolled right up to the club. The bouncer allowed them in, looking the other way.

Inside, there were flashing lights and stripper poles, and of course strippers to go with the stripper poles. Harry gaped. There were strippers of all kinds. Most were witches, but Harry also saw goblins and house elves. There were also veela strippers, whose hair always moved as though they were underwater, their breasts and asses somehow able to move on their own accord. "Veela tits," Harry whispered to himself in awe.

"To say nothing of Veela butts!" said Draco.

Harry continued gazing around the room, stunned and aroused. There was a large woman (a giantess?) who looked remarkably like Madame Maxime. There was a metamorphogus stripper, who changed her appearance constantly, her hair and body shape shifting as she danced. There was even a centaur wearing only a thong, sticking the pole between her tits, kicking her graceful horse legs.

Harry turned to Draco and grinned. Though they were enemies, they had found a common interest after all.

"I'm still probably going to have to fight you at the end of the year," Draco said. "You know how it goes. But no matter what happens, we'll always have Knockers Alley."

"That we will," said Harry. "Thank you, Draco."

Draco winked. He went over to the house elf stripper for a lap dance.

Harry felt that someday, in the eventual future, when the war had blown over, he and Draco might someday meet once more at this place. He imagined them sitting across the room from each other, their eyes meeting-mutual mistrust flooding each of their gazes. Yet nonetheless, Harry would raise a glass, and Draco would raise his in turn.

And then they would both go back to staring at witch tits.


End file.
